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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886811">Love like poison</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Choco_chips/pseuds/Miss_Choco_chips'>Miss_Choco_chips</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Hanahaki AU, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt, Hurt comfort for tim, M/M, Not tagging any ship because there's no acual romance, See if you can guess who Tim loves before the end, Unrequited Love, only pain, times two</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:35:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Choco_chips/pseuds/Miss_Choco_chips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m almost done, anyway", he sighed, letting the violet and bloody red petals fall to the bed. The white sheets and colorful flower made a sick disparity. </p><p>Dick wanted to scream. "Done, what? Living?"</p><p>Jason and Damian flinched at his words. Tim smiled without humor.</p><p>"Waiting."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love like poison</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one hurts, my dudes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He had always been scarily good at deception, Dick thinks blandly. His heart is screaming, and crying, and being torned apart, but his mind is strangely steady. A calm voice, sounding all too much like Bruce when he just became his ward and was hounded by panic attack after panic attack, reminded him of his- their options. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was hard, to listen to that part of himself. Hard to remember they still had time, Tim wasn’t dead yet, they still could…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Tim coughed again, and a waterfall of belladonnas, nightshades and clematis spilled into the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Danger, artifice and death</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whoever it was Tim loved, they wouldn't be worth this pain, if those were the flowers they filled him with)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Fully bloomed and bloodstained. This wasn’t a new disease; it had been left to fester inside the young man for too long, and now…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Tim couldn't breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything else took a backseat as he rushed towards him, falling into his knees by his side in the Cave’s cold floor, screaming for Alfred, Bruce… for help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been forced into bed rest. No one would budge, no matter how much he complained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I’ve been going out with Hanahaki for as long as I’ve been a vigilante; this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred had to leave the room. Bruce’s face had spasmed and closed, emotions tightly locked inside. Jason punched a hole through the wall and stormed off after the butler.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian had clutched Dick’s hand as he watched his intubated brother. It’d be forever their secret, how the youngest boy’ hands had trembled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim just coughed again, and fell asleep clutching a bouquet of foxgloves and dogbane. Tucked in by </span>
  <em>
    <span>insincerity </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>deception</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick could only cry the night away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I refuse."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those two words stop the word in its axis. Hearts refuse to beat, birds quieten their singing, and it seems the wind itself stops howling, breath held in wait of the punchline. Of the explanation. Of the apology.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim offers none. Just looks outside the window and repeats his decision once the doctor enters to check the reason for Jason’s yelling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their begs go ignored. Their anger, scoffed at. Their cries produce little more than a sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim  asks the nurse for a bucket and pukes a river of deathly flowers, seams and all. She pats his back in comfort and looks at them with pity in her eyes, because Tim is no longer a minor, they can’t force his hand, and the staff are under oath to respect the patient's wishes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hyacinths. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please forgive me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t forgive a corpse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wants to say. He can’t- it wouldn’t be heard over his brother’s screams, or his own sobs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim signs the documents Lucius hands him with trembling hands. Dick has to steady him and hold his body upright, and press a handkerchief to his pale lips when he can’t keep the coughs inside any longer and spills fully bloomed oleander on the fabric. He’s careful that no drop of blood falls in the papers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Distrust</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s worried about the future of Wayne Enterprises, now that he’d no longer be at the helm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick wants to shake him, shake him until he coughs out all the flowers, all the love, all the death. Until his lungs are free and his head is set straight. Until his cheeks flush again, his eyes get their shine back, and he’s warm and living once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wants to shake him as if he could spit his little brother out, along with the plants and blood. The little brother he basically raised, protected, mentored, loved. The one he’s about to lose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t. Wonders when, exactly, did he stop fighting for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when did Tim stop fighting for himself?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cass and Steph had arrived two weeks after Tim’s hospitalization. They'd been deep undercover, and Bruce’s emergency call hadn’t reached them until just then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they stormed into Tim’s private rooms, the Wayne family felt a shadow of hope blossoming in their hearts. Was it Steph? They had been together a while ago, maybe Tim’s feelings had remained and he thought hers were gone. Maybe they weren’t, and they could…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim’s face didn’t turn wistful, but guilty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cass’s hand took his, and Stephanie’s fingers combed his hair away from his forehead. She retrieved a petal from within the locks; hydrangea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you for understanding.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>They knew?</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The betrayal stung, but Dick forced himself into calmness before analyzing them better. Cass was the one who looked regretful but resigned. Stephanie, while unsurprised, was still despairing enough that he knew this was news for her as well. Maybe her partner had put her up to speed during their trip here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And his sister… Tim had backed her up from the beginning, when both he and Batman distrusted her past. He had stood up for her and she had always been careful to repay him in kind. There was no point in getting mad at her now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick just hoped their bond would be enough for her to convince him to take the damned operation now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conner Kent arrives one afternoon, grim faced but unsurprised. Dick suspects he’s known for a long time now, and hates him a little for not telling them. Not doing anything before Tim started choking on dangerously full bloomed plants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce must have been beyond himself with helplessness, if he called him. Dick’s own despair is the only reason he doesn’t punch him in his invulnerable jaw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They left the room (some of them for the first time in </span>
  <em>
    <span>days</span>
  </em>
  <span>) when Conner asks, because they are just that desperate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim and Conner talk around the issue, never saying any name, because they aren’t dumb enough to ignore the possibility of microphones and cameras.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They speak for hours. Kon reminds him of the time he has left (</span>
  <em>
    <span>not a lot, dude</span>
  </em>
  <span>). Tim replies he’s not ready (for </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?). He pukes a beautiful, complete wisteria (</span>
  <em>
    <span>I cling to thee</span>
  </em>
  <span>). Conner takes it with shaking hands and puts it behind Tim’s ear, the purple contrasting with his dark hair and almost bringing life back to his deathly pale face. He nods, says he understands. Dick doesn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The meta says they all miss him, at the tower. They want him back as soon as possible (they are not the only ones), so he better hurry up and get better. Tim pats his hand, whispers something they can’t hear, and then they hug for long minutes, maybe an hour (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dick’s perception of time is meassured by coughs and breaths, these days</span>
  </em>
  <span>), until Tim chokes on air and pukes sweetpeas (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Departure, remember me, good-bye, tender memory, thank you for a lovely time).</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conner cries a little when he leaves the room. Tim is again looking at his window. All signs of the happiness his friend brought with him, gone again, washed away like his petals on the wind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick goes after him and wants to scream and insult and hit him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Talk  him out of this!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘He needs the surgery!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What are you good for, if you don’t convince him to fight for himself?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Your best friend is dying and you’re doing nothing!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Do you even love him? At all?!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ends up falling into his chest and crying, instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘My little brother is dying, and I can’t do anything about it’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conner doesn’t hug him back. Doesn’t even look at him when he dislodges Dick’s arms from his middle and turns away, leaving the hospital and any hope the Wayne family had of saving Tim behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was scorn in his gaze, but he doesn’t need the meta to voice his thoughts, for him to get the message. Unneeded, besides; he already blames himself enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a few minutes, Dick thinks the words escape his own mouth. The question had been bouncing around in his head, but unvoiced; doubting Tim would even answer. He only ever spoke when Alfred or one of his friends came.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But no, it was Damian who asked, and Dick saw the bedridden boy parting his dry, bloodstained lips to answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thinking."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the corner of his eye, he saw Jason sitting straight in the couch he had claimed for himself a a few day prior. The four of them were alone at the time, and Dick felt a weak throb of hope at the idea that maybe without their Father, Tim would be willing to answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"About what?", asked Jay this time, voice rough for all the shouting he’d been doing lately. He was more mellow, today; tired of fighting against Tim’s imperturbable facade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"About who. The one who planted these seeds in my lungs. Just… reminescenting."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the... ? Stop!", Dick’s voice broke. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>it makes the Hanahaki worse! You are just watering those, those… weeds! You are not even ignoring the precipice, you are speeding towards it!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim’s face never turned from the window. His hands fiddled with some nerium oleander flowers, a far away look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Distrust. Beware. Caution</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What was Tim scared of, that was worse than death?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I’m almost done, anyway", he sighed, letting the violet and bloody red petals fall to the bed. The white sheets and colorful flower made a sick disparity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick wanted to scream. "Done, what? Living?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason and Damian flinched at his words. Tim smiled without humor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Waiting."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, and didn’t speak for a long while. His eyes left the window to look at Dick, and they stayed like that for what seemed like hours, eyes locked, Tim’s unreadable icy blues against Dick’s sky ones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finally did, it was to ask for a doctor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were kicked out of the room. All of them, even Bruce. No matter how much money he offered, or how he reminded the hospital staff of their debt to his family; apparently, Tim had chosen the most morally upright doctors in the whole city to treat him. That, or he’d threaten them worse than even the Batman could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both are equally plausible, coming from his scheming, cunning little brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick can’t breath, is holding all his air and emotions tight in his chest from the moment they are given the boot until a nurse approaches, face a blank mask but eyes betraying her relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim had agreed to the surgery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would live.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick is more focused on the colchicum she’s twisting in her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My best days fled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he’s not sure who was the intended recipient of the message. Nor why his throat hurts so bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was going to be a long recovery time, they are told. Tim’s flowers were left free to fester and grow and twist inside of him for too long. A lot of tissue had to be removed along with the roots, the stems had scratched along his esophagus and…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was something else. Something the doctor refrained from telling them. Something that turned Tim’s smile empty when they visited him after the procedure, lying still in the too big bed. Had made his voice devoid of any feeling as he told them he’d be having his rehabilitation in San Francisco’s General Hospital. He had a house there, he informed them, and his own company, that he apparently had been preparing for a long time now.  He wouldn’t be opposed to future contracts with WE, but now was time for him to spread out his wings and fly. The Titans would look over him during his recovery, after all, and Gotham was no place for a bedridden vigilante anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick felt cold all over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bouquet in Tim’s hands, gift from his friends, told them what they needed to know about his decision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lantana. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unyielding</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pasque flower. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You have no claim.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azalea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Take care of yourself for me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The operation should have gotten rid of Tim’ feelings towards the one he loved. Why was he leaving the entire family behind, instead?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred wasn’t there when Tim was discharged. He had decided to go back to the mannor first, with both Cassandra and Stephanie, to ready everything for the family’s return. For those who were coming back, at least. Tim had said goodbye to him in private, Dick thinks. He doesn’t understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce goes next, and he leaves the room shortly after, confusion as clear in his face as when he went in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason and Damian entered together, neither trusting the other with their bedridden, weakened brother. Dick thinks, if there was something positive to take out of Tim’s suffering, was the cementing of his bond with both his predecessor and successor. They left with twin paper slips and a direction scratched on them. An invitation for the future.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As requested, Dick was the last one. He had to stop at the threshold and just relish in the image his brother gave. Healthier than he had been in weeks (maybe months, even), rosy cheeks, no sign of shadows under his eyes, easy smile stretching lazy lips. Hair a mess, but when wasn’t it? Still underweight, the days leading to the surgery, specially hard on his body, had prevented him from eating much of anything, but that was nothing a lot of care wouldn't solve. Care that would be provided by his friends, apparently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart throbs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t been alone in a room together in quite a long time. When Tim succumbed to Hanahaki and collapsed in the Cave, maybe? And before that? At least a year and a half, maybe two, before he gave Robin to Damian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim is lounging by the window, travel backpack at his feet. Conner would be picking him up from the hospital’s rooftop any minute now, and the rest of their team had already went to the mannor for the rest of his luggage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One last goodbye, and Tim would be gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Better in San Francisco than dead, he thought)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why?", he asks, unable to stop himself. The question had burned at his throat for too long now, and he wanted to cough to get rid of the feeling. He refrained; weary of anything that could delay his answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim, so tight lipped he had been lately on the subject, let his smile stretch an inch wider.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I’ve been in love with you for as long as memory serves, Dick."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Easy, voice almost breezy. As if had not completely turned Dick’s world over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unperturbed by Dick’s gasp and his sudden need to grasp the wall for support, Tim continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My feelings for the rest of the family were built over that, and now that they are gone… well. I still care for them, the small part of me that wasn’t consumed by love grew to like them besides what I felt for you, but the feeling is… a lot smaller than it was before."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small shrug, he looked at his wristwatch and bent to pick his backpack up. Apparently they were running out of time for their goodbye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick had believed Tim had saved him for last because there were many things he needed to tell him. Turns out that he just didn’t care enough. Didn’t care anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know how it is, when you stack everything over one little, unstable piece of yourself? When it collapses, it takes everything away. My life as a vigilante was spurred from meeting you so long ago. I came to be Bruce’s partner and later his son because of you. I made up with Jason and Damian because you edged us on. I guess Alfie, Cass and Steph are the most detached from that, so I’m cool with them now as well. The rest… I’ll guess we’ll see, from now on, how it goes. Fresh starts and all that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He approaches Dick, still smiling. Dick has to force himself not to shiver. There’s nothing scary in Tim’s eyes, nothing dark; just lightness and calmness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d never noticed, how charged those eyes were when they looked at him. Now, they barely held anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that by itself was terrifying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I still care about you, don’t make that face", he laughs, but it’s… it’s not the laugh he’s used to. Not the one that screams so many feelings. Not the one that always made him felt like he was on top of the world just from earning it. "You are part of the Waynes. We’ll see each other soon enough, and I’m sure we’ll be able to built a new relationship that’s not linked with my hopeless love. It’ll probably take time, I’m bound to be very busy with my new company and my team, but hey, we’re young, there’s time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick feels sick. His chest is so tight, he can’t breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don’t look so grim", Tim whispers, a hand careful on Dick’s shoulders. "You were right, the operation was for the best. I was just… desperate and lost, you know? I felt that way for so long, I didn’t knew how to be anything else than in love with you. Wasn’t sure how much of me would remain after getting rid of that part. Apparently", he waves at himself, "enough."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another step, Tim was just by his side, still touching him but now closer. Another step, and he’d be out of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"After everything went wrong between us… the flowers I used to have were prettier. Both in meaning and… well. Do you know what belladonnas, nightshades, clematis and every other flower I coughed had in common?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. Isn’t sure if Tim can see it over how hard he’s shaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They are all poisonous. That’s what my love for you was in the end, Dick. It was poison, and it was killing me inside faster than even the Hanahaki, but I still nurtured it. Them. Those flowers were killing me, and I still cared for them, watered them with my tears and memories. I know, it was silly, but… Well, you know how people say ‘pick your poison’? I picked you. I hanged on until I couldn't anymore. Letting the flowers go was the hardest choice I ever made", he laughs, a little incredulous, "and now that they are gone, I can’t even understand why. I guess only those in love can."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s still smiling when he lets go of Dick’s shoulder and steps out into the hallway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Bye, Dick. See you soon, okay? Take care."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick stays there, frozen in the door, for a long time. Thinking of Tim, of the years spent together, the pain and the happiness they shared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers the kid he was, bright eyed. Always following him around when he had the chance, hanging out to Dick’s every word. Always kind, good beyond belief. Too much, for the life they lead. Too bright for all the darkness surrounding the Bat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until everything started crumbling. Until the weight of duty drove Dick into distrust. Into choosing. Into abandoning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until all those sweet memories turned into even sweeter poison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The happy but naive kid, turned ruthless but righteous teen, turned dangerous and kind hearted young man. The kind of man who receives a vial of toxics from a loved one, and still drinks it with a smile. Still fights to do good. Still tries to keep his feelings, as hurtful as they turned to be, close to his heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was heartbreakingly beautiful in his sadness when he decided to let go, and now in the lightheadedness of finally being able to breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick falls to his knees. Emotions too deep, to complicated, swim around his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels like he lost something invaluable. He’s not sure what: Tim is still there, alive and happy. And they’d have to rebuild their bridges, but that was possible as long as he was there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So why…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All comes crashing around him, and he allows himself to cough, trying to get the heaviness off his airways. To breath again, after Tim took all the air with him when he left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He coughs, and coughs and coughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranunculus petals come out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m dazzled by your charms</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He coughs, heaves and pukes. Crawls into the room and closes the door behind him. No one can see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lilies of the valley, fully bloomed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetness. Happiness through the ages. You’ve made my life complete.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gasping for air, he drags himself to the nearest wall, back resting against it as he hides his face in knees drawn up against his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hemlock, bloodstained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You will cause my death.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shadow passes by the window. It’s dark and blue and a little red; Superboy, taking Tim to San Francisco and away from him. From the man who almost killed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cries in between coughs, as the garden of lost chances, poisonous flowers and blood grow around him. It’s grimly beautiful; no wonder Tim was hesitant of getting rid of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He can’t breath.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-</span>
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